Month: May 2013

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I beg of you, control your dogs!!

Look, I love Maine. I love this whole damn state. I was born here, lived most of my life here (with the 2 1/2 year exceptions of California, Pennsylvania and Mississippi), and in fact, I’m a 5th generation Mainer with my son being the 6th generation.  In particular, I love rural Maine. I’ve lived mostly in very small towns (population under 3,000).  Most people in these towns have at least a little land where we like to roam, and where we like our animals to roam, too.

BUT, if you live anywhere near a road, then people may be walking or biking or running near your home and your roaming pets, right?  And should you have *some* control over those pets?  YEEESSSSSS!!!

Let me explain my rant.

This morning, I started out on a 10-mile run.  My first since my surgery. so I was nervous and a little excited.  I took off with my little bottle of Gatorade (my new love) and my sports beans in my pocket.  The temps were only in the low 50s and it was cloudy—-perfect running weather!

The first 5 miles were, believe it or not, blissful.  I was really enjoying myself. My body felt good, I wasn’t overheating, and my music was pushing me right along.  At the 5-mile mark, I turned and headed back home.  I took a little walking break, but still felt good.  As I started to pick up a little speed again, I saw a dog out of the corner of my eye.  It was in a person’s yard, but running toward the road….toward me.  dog-chasing-man1

Before I go on, I should probably tell you that I have a fear of most dogs.  When I was a kid, a very large and mean, 3-legged poodle bit my foot as I biked past its home.  I don’t think I yelled, but I do remember crying and trying to shove my foot down the dog’s throat.  It didn’t bite through my shoe, but I’ve been afraid of most dogs ever since.

So….back to the large black dog chasing me.  Its buddy, which looked to be a golden retriever, ran after me, too.  They were barking and although I was pretty sure they wouldn’t bite me, they still scared the hell out of me.  (If you’re a dog person, you’re probably thinking, “Oh, Holly, they probably just wanted to play!  Golden retrievers are just big, playful goofs.”  Yeah, well, this was a dog I didn’t know and this was not the time to find out if it was really a flesh-eating goof.)

Then the cars started to drive by…and the dogs were in the road, still nipping at my heels.  I yelled at them, slowed way down, looked to the house where the dogs lived and yelled, but no one came.  I kept yelling and trying to shoo them back to their home so they wouldn’t be run over, until finally I just started yelling, “Get your dogs!  Come and get your dogs!!”  EVENTUALLY, I heard someone yell for the dogs and I booked it out of there.  I was so freaked out and angry that I was actually able to run up the next hill which I’ve never been able to do before.  Well…at least the experience was good for something.

Seriously, though, this has happened to me too many times.  It’s nice to live in a sparsely populated area where our pets can run around and have as much freedom as possible, but damn it, I live here, too!  I shouldn’t have to be afraid each time I go out for a long run.  I shouldn’t have to scream and scream until you finally come out and call your dogs.  I don’t want to have to carry a weapon….although I think carrying my phone with Animal Control’s number is now in order.

And *that* pisses me off, too!  Because I love where I live. I love that I can run and run and only carry a water bottle and typically not worry about too much danger, just worry about stepping in deer and cow poop. I don’t want to have to carry a phone or pepper spray or anything remotely like that.

So please, please have some consideration for those of us that live near you or just happen to run by your house.   We love it here, too.  Let’s find a way for all of us to have our freedom, ok?  Let’s try to find a way to get along, damn it.

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Regret and Gratitude

Recently, my husband was away on a two-week business trip.  I have to say that my house stayed cleaner longer, I had very little laundry, and our grocery bill was reduced dramatically.  Yet, oddly enough, my running suffered.  Running ended up causing more stress than it relieved.

I typically run three weekday mornings and a “long” run on Sunday morning.  Rarely is my six-year old son even awake yet by the time I finish my weekday runs, but my husband is usually here and if I’m late getting back, he wakes our boy up and starts getting him ready for school. So….what do I do when my husband is away?

Treadmill, you say?  I tried. I really did.  But spring in Maine can be absolutely gorgeous, and after one mile on the treadmill, I knew I couldn’t do it.  I just had to do this outside somehow.    So on that first Sunday morning that my husband was away, after a mile on the “Dread,” I ran a mile outside then checked on my son, who was thrilled to play on the computer at this time of day. He didn’t care where the heck I was!  I continued my next three miles the same way.  It was not much fun, but I was happy enough and my boy was ecstatic.

Yet my early morning weekday runs were a different story.   I was stressed leaving my house while my son still slept.  I wasn’t worried about anyone breaking in or anything like that, but I didn’t want him to wake up alone.  We did come up with a plan where if he awoke, he could light up the “Mama signal” (the outside light) and I would come running.  During these runs, I was literally running up & down the road, so I was never far.   He did use the signal once, and the rest of the mornings he was either asleep the whole time or woke up before I left.  But during every single run, I felt guilty.  Part of me felt that I needed to keep running for my physical and mental well-being, but the other part felt that I needed to stay home and figure out another way.  The stress and guilt I felt was not eliminated by the running but was fueled by it……yet I still did it.  What does that say about me?

I discussed this with my husband while he was away, and we both agreed that we have a child that is easy going and doesn’t typically “get into stuff.”  In other words, he wouldn’t ever turn on the stove or run down the street because, honestly, he has a lot of fear inside of him.  If he gets scared, he will wait outside on the steps for me (which is what he did on the one morning he used the Mama signal).  We both knew our boy would be ok while I ran, but….it still wasn’t the best decision we’ve…..no, I’ve… ever made.   It was ultimately my decision, and I think I have a lot of guilt about it.  I didn’t leave him alone for any major length of time, but 10 or even 20 minutes can feel like a long time to a six-year-old.   He probably won’t even remember this next year, but will I?

Katherine Hepburn once said, “I have many regrets, and I’m sure everyone does. The stupid things you do, you regret if you have any sense, and if you don’t regret them, maybe you’re stupid.”   I’ve always found Katherine Hepburn to be a very wise woman, so I’m hoping this means that I’m not stupid.  I just feel really stupid.

Anyway, after those guilt-ridden, stressful morning runs, I asked my mom to hang out with Bri while I ran last Sunday. This was my first 8-miler since early March, and I wanted it to be a decent one.  Knowing that my son was home playing “swords” with Grammie, made it one of the most relaxing and enjoyable runs I’ve ever had.

My husband is now back home.  I’ve been on two early morning runs so far this wee484474_4268397630915_1469183956_nk, and even with the foot pain I’ve been having, they were stress and guilt-free.  I’ve always appreciated the support my husband has given me over the past few years as I’ve attempted to become a runner.  He always tells me what a great job I’ve done or how super-hero like I am, even if he has no idea how long I was out there or for how far.  He thinks it’s amazing that I run at all.  But I don’t think I ever knew how good I really had it.  So thank you, dear husband.  You truly are my greatest cheerleader and support.

Now please pick up your dirty dishes and place them in the sink….or at least near it.